


i can feel you

by mayday0329



Category: xxxHoLic
Genre: M/M, doumeki owns a cat as well, i procrastinated math to write this, there's a cat in the shop, xxxholic cat au??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:42:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23941003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayday0329/pseuds/mayday0329
Summary: So sometimes you curl on a cushion behind the screen, hidden delightfully away from the light of the pipe your owner smokes, and you listen inattentively to their talk. Most times it is of wishes, the shop’s business, happenings at your owner’s friend’s university. It is not something to interest a cat like you.
Relationships: Doumeki Shizuka/Tsuyuri Kohane, Doumeki Shizuka/Watanuki Kimihiro
Kudos: 21





	i can feel you

**Author's Note:**

> Doumeki x Watanuki
> 
> They both have cats. This is set after D and K get married, but before they have their first child. Can be seen as an AU because I'm definitely sure there's some stuff that doesn't add up to the manga in this fic. Please be kind, I really really miss my cat. She died yesterday.
> 
> (and all i can think of is douwata im a horrible owner lol)

_ i _

You do not notice most things in life.

It is not in your nature to do so. As a household cat, you spend your days lazing on the patio, washing yourself and sleeping for long amounts of time. Occasionally you would rouse yourself for a walk, or when you smelt food. 

Like most household cats, you have an owner. Your owner is a nice man, too tall, too thin. He wears kimonos and cheongsams like it is his second skin, and he cooks the best meals you have ever tasted. Mokona says he makes the best sake as well, but you would not know -- you are not an alcoholic like Mokona, or your previous owner.

Thinking of your previous owner makes you sad. You know it makes your current owner sad, but still he thinks of her often, when the rain is hurtling down the roof and he sits in the backyard, stroking your back. Maru and Moro are absent, then, perhaps sleeping to regain their energy, and Mokona is off by himself in the shop. Then it is only you and him.

But it is never always only you and him. Other than Maru and Moro, and Mokona, there is another whom your owner’s eyes constantly stray to. Even an unobservant cat like you can notice that. How your owner smiles too often at him, how he relents your owner’s unreasonable ways. You appreciate your owner for his care and food, but even you admit it is a bit ridiculous. 

So sometimes you curl on a cushion behind the screen, hidden delightfully away from the light of the pipe your owner smokes, and you listen inattentively to their talk. Most times it is of wishes, the shop’s business, happenings at your owner’s friend’s university. It is not something to interest a cat like you. 

And sometimes there is silence, long periods of time where your owner’s friend and your owner stare ahead into the courtyard. It is those times when you roll over on your back, stretch, and pad out. You are not a mindful cat, but you understand the need for privacy.

You do not talk of this to Maru or Moro, or Mokona. But those times, when you leave so your owner and your owner’s friend can talk about something-or-another, you walk proudly out of the shop and down the street.

Who is to say you are not allowed your own private friend as well? There is someone you sneak glances at too, someone wildly out of your range. A feline, soft and powerful, always with her haunches raised. She stands on the edge of her residence’s balcony like a queen who found her subjects distasteful, and you are simply an arrogant passerby. 

But no matter. She talks to you, when you leap up to scale the pipe and land beside her as gently as you can. You have been eating a bit too much of your owner’s fresh tuna lately.

That night she tells you of her owner’s strange behaviour as of late. He is returning later and later, past midnight even, and her owner’s wife is getting more and more worried. They are newlyweds, just moved in; but the wife whispers to her cat that she wishes her husband loved her a little more. Just a little.

You do not entangle yourself in others’ affairs. You just listen, and she takes the attention she deserves. But once, just once, you ask her if she wonders about her owner.

She sends a hateful glance your way, and you have seen this hateful glance before. A few years back, although it feels like more. When you were just beginning to become acquainted with your current owner, and was still under the care of your previous owner. He had given him such a look, two figures clad in school uniforms, one significantly taller than the other. One had looked at the other in the way she looks at you now. 

You sit with her in silence, as an ignorant cat. When you return, your owner's friend is always gone, and your owner is sitting by himself, smoking. When he sees you return he is happy, but it is a despondent sort of happy. You understand his unhappiness, but you are afraid of tearing down the thin veil he has put up between him and the rest of the inhabitants of the shop. 

You are a cowardly cat who does not notice most things in life. 

_ i _

Once one has made their choice, there is no other road to go other than forward.

Of course one could go backwards. But in such a situation there is no backwards. You know that if your owner could he would, but he would not want to. He does so out of brotherly love for a woman, and guilt at ruining a marriage. He does it for a man who understands, but does not want to.

You stay, relaxed, as your owner's friend rubs your stomach. He has never been one for cats — you can tell from the uncertain way he pets you, where his fingers sprawl in the most uncomfortable ways and sometimes you feel like he has you in a chokehold. Your owner is better, with a slacker hand, but he pets you less and less often now. His face is often withdrawn and pale, although he makes an effort to smile with every customer.

Your owner's friend visits at haphazard intervals — sometimes he visits every day for a week, and then he won't come over for a few days. It frustrates you, but as a lazy cat you do not take much notice of it. It frustrates you only because it frustrates your owner, who smokes frequently now and seems to have a perpetual frown on his face when he is not meeting a customer. You miss the evenings where your owner's friend would come over to eat, and he would feed you bits of fried shrimp much to the acquiescent horror of your owner. But you are a cat. He does not understand your attempts to communicate, although he feels your underlying anxiety for him.

You have grown to love your owner, silent bumbling fool he is. You have grown to love his walks around the courtyard, the sweet smoke from his pipe, the way he used to look up in anticipation whenever his friend arrived. Even Mokona would say to him a "welcome home" whenever he returned to the shop. He is a necessity in the shop, not for business, but for your owner's morale. 

Now there is only unrelenting silence, and the occasional soft puff of wind. Your owner has few actual people to talk to, other than customers who forget him easily. You think he misses his friend more than you miss his friend. 

When you ask, she doesn't reply. Only that her owner's wife is expecting, and that it is simply a way of life. When you press if she feels unwanted, she does not send you that hateful glare anymore, but instead stares ahead, heedless of your gaze. 

It is an unbridled love. Your owner and his friend, you and her. Your owner knows to stop. How about you?

That night, when you return, you realise it's too early when you see your owner's friend's shoes at the entrance. Maru and Moro are sleeping. Mokona is as well, slumped on the wooden floorboards, in the midst of what looks like a drunken feasting. Fluffing your tail haughtily, you pad on towards the back yard, but they aren't there.

You pause, then venture on towards the inside of the shop, near your owner's room. It is not your previous owner's room, but directly opposite it, your owner having cleared out a pile of rubbish from the room before moving in to it.

The door is not locked, but you stop outside. You remember her words,  _ newlywed, expecting, I wish he loved me a little more _ . From inside you hear the love she has been yearning for all along, stifled but earnest nonetheless. Her husband is an infidel creature, but is it infidel if one does it out of love?

You do not know. You do not want to know. You are a cat unskilled at the art of silent observation, and all you want for your owner tonight is to be happy.

Even if he will not be happy tomorrow. All you want, as an uncaring cat, is for him to be happy tonight.

_ i _

It is bad luck to cry bitterly when a new life is brought into the world. Especially when that life will be tied to yours.

But your owner had matured, and your owner doesn't give a fuck anymore. As a cat, you remain refined and poised, kneeling beside his hunched body to give him a little warmth. As much warmth as possible, in such a bleak time.

The child is born at 6 in the evening, which is a beautiful time to be born as your owner points out thickly. The setting sun, and wet grass, and preparations for dinner. A bottle of sake, wiped gleaming. You have no idea if your owner's friend will come over as often, once his child is born, but you saw his gaze when he left that morning. He will come back.

You want to comfort your owner. You want to say that the baby will be beautiful and healthy, and they will live a long life together, until the next generation is born. Your owner will never be lonely as long as he lives. You have no intention of letting him be so, as your owner's friend thinks as well.

She is too tired to walk much, lately, so you go to her as always. Her owner's wife is over the moon — two pregnant females in the house at once is a very auspicious sign. There is no worry, no prejudice that the baby will be affected by the cat, however, your owner agreed to take care of her for a few weeks after her owner's wife came back from the hospital.

You look at her, then look at your owner. Your strong, lonely owner, who sits staring at the grey sky above, dangling his pipe from his lips and thinking of otherworldly things that you do not dare to think of, since you are just a cat.

But you hope he feels your love, as you look at him. You never want him to be alone. You know your owner's friend is the same as well.

**Author's Note:**

> ALL RIGHT i understand that it's perceived as K married D so W would never be alone, but in this cat au she kinda loves D too ok don't @ me


End file.
